The Sons of the White Tower
by Espionage
Summary: Boromir and Faramir live their lives in Minas Tirith. They are older (yes), wiser (perhaps), and capable of getting themselves in and out of many misadventures... Ch 3- Fate: Will it smile down this day?
1. An Ordinary Day?

Standard Disclaimer: No, I don't own LOTR, and despite what I'd like to think in my head, I don't actually own Boromir, Faramir, Denethor...etc. I am just borrowing them for now.  
  
Note: Right now, Boromir is 16 and Faramir is 11. Since an age/birthdate is never mentioned for Beregond, I have decided to make him around 15 at this time.  
  
If you have time, please check out my other story (The Sons of Minas Tirith) :)  
  
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The sun had barely risen above the second wall of Minas Tirith, but the yells and crashes coming from just outside the citadel made it clear that someone was awake in the great city. It was only March, when the chill morning air caused most people to postpone their duties an extra hour.  
  
Of course, Boromir hardly wanted to classify himself as "most people".  
  
The eldest son of Denethor II had awoken at a very early hour for a single, simple purpose: to perfect the sword fighting skills that he was so proud of. After all, Boromir was already 16, and would soon (in his eyes) be old enough to join the groups of Rangers that patrolled the lands of Ithilien. All he needed was a little extra practice (and perhaps some excellent persuasive skills to use on his father, but he felt that would come later).  
  
Unfortunately for Boromir, his sole opponent in this early hour was his sleepy, slightly reluctant brother Faramir.  
  
"Come on, Faramir!" exclaimed an exasperated Boromir, when Faramir didn't parry a simple attack. It was the fourth time Boromir had been forced to move his sword at the last minute, to avoid giving his brother a choppy haircut. Although the swords the brothers used for everyday practice had fairly dull blades, to prevent any unnecessary injury, they were certainly capable of cutting hair.  
  
Faramir yawned. "It is still early," he mumbled, "and I was up late last night. Had I known you wished to wake me up before the sun, I might have gone to bed sooner."  
  
Boromir frowned. "Up late?" he repeated. "But our evening meal was early, as Father had business to attend to, and there certainly wasn't anything interesting enough to keep us awake." He paused for a moment, thinking. "You haven't left me out of anything, have you?"  
  
"Of course not, brother," Faramir replied, rubbing his eyes. "I was reading about the Elves. There are a couple books about them in the library, so I picked the best one I could find."  
  
It was Boromir's turn to yawn. "I'm sure it wasn't necessarily the best; but simply the longest book you could find. Wouldn't you rather find something on war to read? Or Gondor? Besides, how often have you seen any Elves roaming around Minas Tirith?"  
  
"I haven't seen any," Faramir was forced to admit. "But it is useful to know about them. After all, the Rangers of Ithilien speak more than just Common, you know. They learn Elvish, and if you want to join them, you must learn it too."  
  
"There's time enough for that later. Come on!" With that, Boromir raised his sword again, preparing for battle.  
  
Faramir sighed. His sword fighting skills were reasonable, but he could never seem to get his heart into the fight as Boromir could. Killing people irked him, even when he knew it was necessary, and besides, he had little chance against an opponent who greatly outmatched him in size, strength, and experience. It was like attempting to fight and defeat a solid brick wall.  
  
Nonetheless, Faramir adored his brother, and, adjusting his grip upon his small sword, silently agreed to continue practicing.  
  
********  
  
A while later, Boromir pulled Faramir to his feet for what seemed to be the fiftieth time. "Don't worry, little brother," Boromir said. "It takes a lot of practice to become really good, and you still have years to work."  
  
Faramir nodded, rubbing a sore spot on his head. "I guess I also have years of bruises to look forward to," he mumbled. "At least reading doesn't cause so much pain!"  
  
Boromir couldn't help laughing at the reference to bruises, but suddenly became serious when he glanced towards the sky. "How long have we been out here practicing?" he asked, while attempting to calculate the time. "The sun was barely over those buildings when we began..."  
  
His younger brother groaned, but not in pain. "I think we're late for breakfast! We better run before we......hey!" Faramir grabbed his sword and ran after Boromir, who was already bolting towards the door to the hall.  
  
********  
  
Faramir managed to catch his brother right before he pushed open the door to the kitchen. Normally, they would never present themselves for any formal meal without washing up, but both had decided that being a little sweaty would be more easily excused than being late. Unfortunately, in their eagerness to present themselves for breakfast, Boromir managed to trip over his brother, and they both tumbled to the ground in an ungainly heap.  
  
A cold voice greeted them as they attempted to untangle their legs from one another. "I see that you have finally chosen to grace me with your presence," stated Denethor, who was seated in his chair at the head of the table. Generally, the family did not eat all meals together, for the Steward had business to attend to, and his sons often wandered around the city or studied. However, it was well known that breakfast was considered a formal meal, and the presence of all was expected.  
  
Boromir straightened himself, and attempted to explain his actions. "We woke up early to perfect our sword fighting techniques," he began.  
  
"I am well aware of that, Boromir," replied his father. "The noise you created was indeed enough to wake most who were still trying to achieve another hour of sleep."  
  
It was clear to Boromir that this was not the best way to start a conversation, but he knew that Faramir stood silently next to him, and was unlikely to speak unless forced to. Thus, he had to find another way to steer the conversation. "We are sorry to have created such a racket, Father," admitted Boromir, "but it was the optimal day for sword fighting." He thought quickly. "We....we have some new techniques that should impress our tutor, next time there are lessons. He will be greatly impressed with our skill, and tomorrow we will be sure to arrive on time for breakfast."  
  
In spite of his initial anger, Denethor seemed interested in his elder son's words. He knew that Boromir was immensely proud of his fighting skills, though he was beginning to learn not to brag without reason. Perhaps he did have a good reason to boast. "Very well," the Steward replied, "if you are early tomorrow, then perhaps your dedication to your work makes this a transgression that can be overlooked. And now," he added, glancing at Faramir, "tell me you have also been practicing."  
  
Faramir nodded. "I was with Boromir," he stated.  
  
"And?" Denethor was not satisfied with his younger son's response.  
  
Faramir disliked being compared with Boromir, though his friend Beregond always said it was common among siblings. "We were practicing, very hard actually," replied Faramir, "though Boromir's skills outstrip mine." He forced himself to meet his father's eyes, though he would have been happier watching his feet.  
  
The Steward judged his son's answer to be sufficient. "You have much to practice, but there will be plenty of time for that later. Come now, both of you, before the food grows as cold as the morning air! And see that you are not late tomorrow."  
  
No further words were necessary. Boromir and Faramir seated themselves, and breakfast continued as it normally did.  
  
********  
  
Later, both brothers could be found in the second circle of Minas Tirith. Boromir seemed ready for battle as he wandered around, mumbling to himself and waving his sword in a series of seemingly complicated maneuvers. Every so often, he would pick a small stone off the ground, and throw it towards a small, circular target, perhaps imagining a strike against an enemy from Harad. Many of the rocks made impressively accurate hits, but occasionally they would sail wide, and he then attempted to convince Faramir that he truly was aiming for a potted plant, or a closed door.  
  
His younger brother spent the majority of his time reading, but also looked up once in awhile to carefully aim an arrow at the target. Despite his dislike for killing, Faramir still found entertainment in archery, a skill in which he generally outshone his elder brother. With a fine bow that he had acquired in one of their earlier adventures, he was seldom off his mark.  
  
Now, as Boromir watched one of his rocks go flying into a pail of water, Faramir fitted another arrow to his bow. Fixing his gaze upon the target, he released the arrow and heard the satisfying 'ping' that signified another accurate hit.  
  
Boromir sighed slightly in frustration, but still congratulated his brother. "I may slay the enemy with my sword," Boromir began, "but you can hit him half a league away! Wait until we have an archery contest here in the White City. Even Beregond will be highly impressed."  
  
Faramir grinned, glowing in the praise from his brother. He could still feel the bumps and bruises from the earlier sword practice, but now he was not so frustrated competing with Boromir.  
  
Nonetheless, he knew the unhappiness of being second best, so he decided to put away his arrows and book. "Let's find something else to do," Faramir began. "When our tutor returns next week, there will be plenty more time to work."  
  
Boromir frowned slightly, caught between his desire to practice more, and his longing to find some other entertainment. After all, a little leisure never hurt anyone...  
  
The elder brother finally spoke. "Let's go swimming!"  
  
"Swimming?" When Faramir had mentioned finding something else to do, he thought Boromir might suggest finding Beregond, or even dropping rotten fruit off the outer wall 'just to see what would happen'. Swimming wasn't exactly the top thing in his mind. "It's March," he stated, finding no better way to word his thoughts.  
  
"It's great exercise," replied Boromir. "The weather is not too cold, and we have permission to go to the river, so long as we are 'back at a reasonable hour and not subjecting ourselves to unreasonable risks'." The last statement was quoted from their father.  
  
Faramir was not quite convinced. "It's March," he repeated, not quite believing that Boromir had suddenly become unconcerned with the cold waters. "The river is excellent for swimming, but have you forgotten how cold it is in spring?"  
  
Boromir laughed and shrugged his shoulders, giving Faramir reason to suspect his brother of hiding something of interest. "We're not just going to the river to swim, are we?" the younger brother said, slowly. He wondered what other reason they would have for visiting the river, but he couldn't deny the fact that he was curious.  
  
"Of course not," Boromir replied, "I should have known you wouldn't fall for that. But you'll have to wait until you see for yourself. Let's see if we can track down Beregond, and someone else...Anborn perhaps, or Mablung. Then I can show you what I have in mind."  
  
He sheathed his sword, and soon both brothers were gone.  
  
********  
  
Yes, not the most exciting chapter, but I had to set it up for the story. Don't worry, plenty more action next time. 


	2. The Stirring of the Anduin

-----Shlee Verde: Yes, I do like the idea of dropping fruit off the wall...hehe. I will certainly try to make this story as good as the last one.  
  
-----Teresa Martin: Thanks :) Basically, this story (and the last) is simply how I think Boromir and Faramir might have spent their time growing up.  
  
-----GamgeeFest: Yep, Boromir is always there for Faramir. And I wouldn't want to go swimming in a river in March either!  
  
-----Lathanna: Well, I think this chapter is a bit more "adventury" than the last.  
  
-----Susan: Yeah, restful times are good, but don't worry, I like the action a lot too. Besides, how long could they possibly stay out of an adventure (especially Boromir!)  
  
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To the relief of both Boromir and Faramir, finding a few companions interested in accompanying them to the river did not in itself require a quest across the entire city. In fact, a mere ten minutes passed before they stumbled upon Beregond, listening to a few of the off duty city guards in the third circle. He briefly heard their request, and standing quickly, agreed to go to the river. After all, being only slightly younger than Boromir, he enjoyed their company, and realized that staying in the city would probably result in being left out from some extraordinary happenings. "Besides," Beregond admitted, gesturing towards the guards, "their conversation has gone from entertaining one another with battle stories to discussing potential drainage problems in the city, and I doubt I will miss anything here. Still, I admit the stories were rather interesting, while they lasted."  
  
Boromir had been listening intently at the mention of battle stories, and Faramir wondered if he would forget about the river entirely, instead choosing to hear Beregond's retelling of old (and possibly exaggerated) tales. However, the older brother had not forgotten his original plan. Turning to Beregond, Boromir said, "Have you seen anyone else around whom you deem worthy of coming with us?"  
  
Beregond nodded. "I thought you might ask, and indeed, I saw the boy Anborn only moments before, walking in that direction." He pointed, then added, "I believe he was rather bored at the time. Let's see if we can catch him."  
  
The three of them sprinted in the direction Beregond had indicated, their eagerness lending speed to their feet. Indeed they quickly found Anborn, and within hearing the first two sentences of their plan, he agreed to go, setting the plan officially in motion.  
  
********  
  
To a man on horseback, the river was a very short distance from the city, but to the four boys who had rarely visited, the walk seemed considerably farther. Luckily, the land was mostly flat grassland (being the Pelannor) and in this venture, Boromir was certain of the direction they took. Both he and Faramir had experienced their fair share of misadventures outside the city walls in the past, and he had no intention of getting lost this time. Besides, if he wanted to be one of the Rangers, he would need a keen sense of direction.  
  
Eventually, it was Anborn who first caught the sound of the Anduin, the great river. The waters were not yet visible, for they hid behind the trees signaling the end of the grassland. However, soon all four could hear the unmistakable noise, and breaking into a run, were quickly upon its banks.  
  
For a moment, they were completely silent, simply watching the water roar past. Then, Boromir spoke, a hint of pride rising in his voice. "Behold the Anduin!"  
  
Beregond laughed. "Our eyes are working fine, Boromir; we see the great river before us. However, I believe we came here to do more than simply admire water, for we can stick our head down a well and do as much."  
  
Despite himself, Boromir cringed slightly at the mention of a well, remembering a time as a child when he had inadvertently gotten too close to well for comfort. He shook his head slightly, ignoring the memory, then responded. "Very well, I will show you what I had in mind for today."  
  
Boromir lead them a short distance upstream, towards a small group of bushes. For a moment, none of the others saw any significance in the spot, until Boromir brushed aside one of the bushes, revealing something that was previously hidden.  
  
"Boats!" exclaimed Faramir, awestruck. He had suspected his brother of hiding something of interest, but he wondered how Boromir came upon this particular surprise.  
  
Anborn echoed his thoughts, even as Faramir opened his mouth to speak. "How did you find them?" he asked, pushing aside another bush to fully reveal the two hidden boats.  
  
"Father told me about them," Boromir replied, "a few years back when I first mentioned my desire to be a Ranger. He said there were several locations along the river with them, and they were used occasionally by the Rangers to cross the river. I suppose it is easier than trying to ford the river, especially in the winter months. Anyways, lets borrow them for today. They don't seem to be used very often (just look at the fine condition they are in), and it is certainly more interesting than mere swimming." He looked at the others for approval.  
  
Beregond responded by grabbing the pointed bow on one boat, and attempting to lift it. "Come on," he said, motioning for the others to help. "It is not too heavy, but I can't carry it to the river alone." Anborn immediately lifted the other end, and both boys took off with the first boat.  
  
Boromir took hold of the other; then noticed that Faramir seemed less thrilled than himself about the prospect of boating. He stopped and asked, "What ails you, little brother?"  
  
Faramir had gotten over his initial surprise, and now turned towards the sound of the river. "The water is moving quickly," he pointed out, "probably from snow melting somewhere in the mountains. And what if we find the boats difficult to handle? We have practiced swimming before, and are quite strong, but the water may be stronger."  
  
Boromir sighed, then put his hand on Faramir's shoulder. "We won't take the boats too far," he assured him, "and there is some rope in both boats. If anyone falls in, we'll pull them up. Besides, many people have gone down these waters in the past, without any trouble."  
  
The response was a good one, and it seemed to satisfy Faramir for the moment. He held the end of the boat opposite Boromir, and they took off after the others.  
  
********  
  
Within an hour, all four boys decided that boating was an excellent way to spend an otherwise boring afternoon. They had split up between the two boats; Anborn and Faramir in one, and Boromir and Beregond in the other. Although this left both of the least experienced people in the same boat (Anborn was as young as Faramir), Boromir pointed out that it was excellent practice at controlling a boat on the water.  
  
It was definitely an exciting day to be going down the river. As Faramir had noted, the water was moving swiftly, but the boats were well built, and not too difficult to control. Besides, he enjoyed talking to Anborn, who shared (to some extent) his passion for reading. At one point, though Faramir loved his brother dearly, he almost wished Boromir was slightly closer in age, instead of being nearly five years older.  
  
Meanwhile, a little controlled chaos seemed to be occurring in the other boat. Beregond was finally retelling one of the battle stories of the guard he had heard, and attempting to act it out simultaneously. Apparently, he felt that acting involved doing many complicated maneuvers with the boat, and sword fighting with a paddle.  
  
Boromir found the entire display hilarious, even when Beregond accidentally hit him with the paddle. For a moment, Boromir seemed to have forgotten his desire to join the Rangers soon, and was behaving as though he were only the same age as Faramir.  
  
Eventually, Beregond could be heard challenging his companion to a wrestling match inside the boat. This caused Anborn and Faramir to turn momentarily from their conversation. "What are they doing?" asked Anborn, attempting to get a better view of the other boat. "Who wrestles in a boat, especially in the middle of the river?"  
  
Faramir nodded. "I guess the river wasn't exciting enough for them, so they had to improve it. Hopefully they don't tip the boat over." He took the rope lying next to him, just to be safe. Unfortunately, Faramir wasn't very familiar with using rope, and managed to partially entangle himself within the various coils when he attempted to prepare a piece suitable for throwing.  
  
Anborn laughed good-naturedly at his companion, who now resembled a rather large spider, and turned his attention back to the other boat.  
  
Boromir had accepted the challenge of Beregond (after all, how could he turn it down?) and both boys had stored their paddles safely inside. They even thought to glance down the river, to ensure that nothing dangerous was approaching, before turning towards each other. Boromir then began speaking, explaining the rules of what he deemed to be important in wrestling.  
  
He was abruptly cut off by Beregond, who had decided to forego any rules, and managed to knock Boromir into the bottom of the boat. "The rules are for wrestling on land," Beregond pointed out, while trying to pin his opponent. "They don't apply on the boat, so we will have to invent them as we go."  
  
The second boat wobbled slightly as Boromir managed to wiggle out of Beregond's grasp. "All right," he gasped, "we will make the rules then."  
  
From the first boat, the fight was beginning to get very interesting. Anborn had to crane his head a bit to see the action, but despite his initial disbelief at a wrestling match on the water, he was now completely absorbed. He originally pulled for Beregond to win, yet now he found it difficult to pick a side and had to be content yelling occasional cheers for both competitors.  
  
Even Faramir was paying little attention to anything but the match. He was still tangled in the rope, but was now merely picking at it once in awhile. The river seemed more familiar now, even though it still moved swiftly, and Faramir admitted that it was unlikely for the well made boats to tip. He decided to worry about the rope later, and exchanged a few comments with Anborn about the match. The day was peaceful, if one disregarded the few shouts from Boromir and Beregond's boat, and all were off their guard.  
  
Unfortunately, rivers can be very tricky things.  
  
While absorbed in the wrestling match, all four boys had foolishly lost track of the time, and the water ahead. Suddenly, Anborn and Faramir were startled to their senses when they found themselves thrown to one side of the boat. The former let out a small cry of surprise, and glanced downstream.  
  
"Look out ahead!"  
  
Boromir and Beregond looked up. To their shock, they noticed that both boats were now moving at an incredible speed. The river had been fast before, but now it seemed riddled with large rocks and powerful currents. An angry roar filled the ears of all present.  
  
Anborn and Faramir, who were downstream of the other boat, grabbed their paddles and attempted to steer away from a particularly nasty looking wave in the water. However, Faramir discovered that he was still tangled in the rope, which he had foolishly decided to ignore for awhile, and could not effectively paddle. He reached for his sword to cut himself free, then realized that it was impossible for him to reach it. The boat swung around dangerously with only one paddle.  
  
Meanwhile, Boromir and Beregond were having only slightly better luck. Their carefully stowed paddles were now difficult to untie, and it seemed to take forever to get them back in the water. Boromir cursed under his breath, finally taking out a sword and slicing through the rope that held them. Both boys snatched a paddle, but Boromir almost instantly smashed his when their boat came near a large boulder.  
  
With only one person paddling in each boat, it soon became apparent that all were at the mercy of the river. Anborn was just barely keeping the first boat from tipping, with Beregond doing slightly better in the other boat.  
  
Suddenly, the first boat became stuck on a rather large rock. For a moment it was a welcome relief from the angry river, but soon Anborn yelled, "How are we going to get off of this?!" He was wide eyed and appeared to regret the boating trip.  
  
Faramir watched something behind Anborn, unable to speak. Beregond was desperately trying to maneuver his boat away from the trapped one, but it was a losing battle. The river had taken hold, and set Boromir and Beregond on a collision course with the others. All braced themselves for the crash.  
  
The sound of splintering wood filled the air, seeming to drown out even the surging waters of the Anduin. The bow of the second boat hit the side of the first, causing the latter to crack under the impact.  
  
Everything seemed to happen in an instant. Beregond grabbed onto Anborn's arm before the younger boy was tossed into the water, and dragged him aboard the partially damaged second boat. Boromir lunged at Faramir, but he was seconds too late. The first boat had been completely shattered, and Faramir was dragged under the water, still fighting to free himself from the rope.  
  
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I will try to update on Monday again, because I will be busy moving this weekend. 


	3. Fate Works in Strange Ways

Sorry, very busy. I will thank the reviewers in next chapter. College is a lot of work and craziness... ____________________  
  
Beneath the raging surface of the Anduin, time seemed to stand still. The river was swift moving and treacherous, yet the roaring sounds above were distorted by the dark water. Movement was difficult, if not impossible, for the river dictated all. Those who attempted to move against the water soon learned that it was like trying to hold back the ocean tide.  
  
In the midst of the river, a few feet below the surface, Faramir felt the panic rising through his body. He was being tumbled over and over again, swept onward by the currents that had been so effective at propelling the small boats. Even a powerful swimmer, unhampered by any rope would have thought twice before attempting a swim in this portion of the river.  
  
Unfortunately, Faramir found it hopeless. The rope that might appear inviting when thrown to a drowning person was now the bane of the younger brother. He struggled to free himself, though in his mind he knew that the tugging, paired with the water, was only making his bonds tighter. Faramir caught a glimpse of the surface as his lungs began to ache for air.  
  
Soon however, it became apparent that oxygen was not the only hardship the river had to throw at the boy. As Faramir himself had stated, the waters were swift moving due to melting snow. However, this also caused a tremendous drop in the temperature, creating a frigid death trap for those who were careless enough to get caught within.  
  
Eventually, Faramir's struggles became fewer and far between. He could still see the surface, and an escape to air and warmth, but the water was not about to give him up. With cold numbing his senses, Faramir began slipping away.  
  
********  
  
Even the roar of the river on the surface could not drown out the cries of the shaking people as they yelled into the water.  
  
"Faramir!" The voices of Beregond and Anborn shouted in unison, trying in vain to pierce the swirling water for any trace of their friend. For a split second, the older boy seemed ready to dive into the water after him, but he realized that such a move could very well be suicide. Beregond chose to snatch the one paddle that remained to them, and steered the boat away from as many rocks as possible. Anborn half-heatedly bailed the water out of the boat; he was still mainly focused on the river below.  
  
Boromir's mind was a numb as Faramir's, though he did not share his brother's fate in the icy waters below. He vaguely saw his two other companions in the boat, but their actions did not fully register in his mind. His eyes were fixed on his hands; those hands that had failed to snatch his younger brother from the unforgiving river below.  
  
"Faramir!" Boromir tried to yell into the water, to make his voice audible like those of Anborn and Beregond, but his attempts resulted only in whispers. He moved his gaze from his own hands down to the river, as if his very will might bring Faramir back up to the surface.  
  
His eyes failed to spot anything but the blue-gray rush of water that continued roaring past.  
  
An eternity seemed to pass, or was it only mere seconds? Boromir no longer had any sense of time. He knew only the fear pressing against his mind and heart, a terror that his only brother might forever be lost in the midst of the Anduin.  
  
Suddenly, a new noise broke into Boromir's thoughts, shattering them like a bolt of lightening that streaks across the midnight sky. Beregond was yelling at the top of his voice, pointing desperately to a rock in the middle of the river.  
  
"Look! Over there! Not far from the right shore!"  
  
A small figure was clinging to a boulder in the midst of the swirling waters.  
  
********  
  
Escape had appeared so suddenly to Faramir that he had difficulty comprehending it. Only seconds before, he was a victim of the frigid river; then suddenly, almost miraculously, he had crashed into a rock in the river.  
  
It certainly wasn't a comfortable escape from the deadly water, for it left many cuts and bruises along his body, but to Faramir, it represented a small beacon of hope. He managed to grab onto a portion of the rock, just small enough to be a useful handhold.  
  
Then, the raging river unwittingly aided the struggling boy. Where once the current had tossed Faramir about, giving him no chance to catch breath of air, it now propelled him upward and sideways as it attempted to thwart the boulder in its path. It was still very difficult, clinging to the rock, but he had been given a chance.  
  
A small chance, yes; yet perhaps there was hope that he might be seen.  
  
Indeed, though previous events might suggest otherwise, fate was smiling down upon Faramir this day. He was downriver from the remaining boat, because it had become momentarily caught on a tree. Now, as he shivered in the water, Faramir caught a glimpse of the others, currently upriver of him, but moving rapidly.  
  
Despite the effect the freezing water was beginning to have on his mind, some deep instinct told him not to try waving at the others, for then he would surely lose his handhold, and likely his life. Faramir attempted to call out, but his voice seemed stuck in his throat, and words never left his mouth. He began to fear the others would never see him, trapped upon a rock in the water.  
  
But luck wasn't finished with Faramir yet. Beregond happened to glance in the direction of the rock, in his attempts to steer the boat away from yet another obstacle. The older boy started yelling, getting Anborn and Boromir to turn their heads. Then Beregond whipped the boat around to face Faramir.  
  
There was a very real chance of the boat crashing directly into the rock, knocking all four boys into the water. However, if Beregond didn't steer towards Faramir, it would be all too easy for them to float swiftly by, and lose all chance of rescue.  
  
Seconds passed. The boat was pointed directly at the rocks, with Boromir and Anborn waiting anxiously on opposite sides, arms outstretched. Fear was visible in their eyes; but something else too seemed to be present. They were determined to be successful; perhaps to succeed, or die trying.  
  
Everything else happened in a blur. At the last second, Beregond turned the boat away from the rock, swinging the side where Boromir sat directly at Faramir. The elder brother lunged forward, nearly slipping out of the boat himself, but managed to grab hold of Faramir's left arm. Then, with some help from Anborn, Boromir pulled his brother into the safety of the boat. They sat for a moment, panting and shaking from the cold.  
  
Around them, the river roared on.  
  
********  
  
They seemed to travel for miles, unable to free the boat from the clutches of the swift moving water. Beregond and Boromir took turns in their feeble attempts to steer, but they held little sway over the river, and just keeping the boat away from rocks was an incredible feat. Anborn was not strong enough to steer, so he switched off acting as lookout and talking to Faramir.  
  
The latter was huddled in the bottom of the boat. He was soaking wet from the water, and no amount of shivering could shake the cold from his body. Faramir tried to stay awake, but sleep seemed so comforting that he kept drifting into its grasp. Only the words of Anborn, along with a little repeated nudging, forced him to remain alert to the outside world.  
  
Eventually, the river seemed to calm as it widened downstream. Boromir, who happened to be paddling at the time, managed to aim the boat towards the western shore. It was the side of the river closest to the city, that much he knew from geography lessons. He only hoped they could find their way back to the city before nightfall. Otherwise, it would be a very long night for them all. His desire to return home fueled his strength, and he quickly, almost urgently, paddled to the shore.  
  
Unfortunately, when the boat was dragged onto the sand, none present had any clue where to turn next. They had no way of determining how far downriver the boat was carried, and it was entirely possible that they were now either still north, or slightly south, of the city. If they decided to travel in the wrong direction, it might prove impossible to find the way back. Following the river back upstream might work, but it was lined with many trees, and would be difficult to navigate a path through.  
  
Finally, Boromir realized that a way home would have to wait, at least for the moment. They were all wet from the water, especially Faramir. His younger brother could not stop shaking from the cold, either, and travel would most likely result in serious illness.  
  
"We have to build a fire," Boromir said with more confidence then he felt. "Everyone is wet, and it will do little good if we freeze before we even reach the city." He wrapped Faramir in his cloak, for it was the driest one available; then told Beregond to find firewood. To Anborn, Boromir delegated the task of clearing space for a fire, while he himself found some brush that would catch fire easily when exposed to a spark.  
  
However, when all was prepared, another problem was discovered. Boromir had his sword, but none present processed the necessary stone to strike it against, and thus begin a blaze. Without it, there could be no fire, and no warmth. 


End file.
